


late nights

by novoaa1



Series: gotham city sirens: the roommates™ edition [2]
Category: DCU
Genre: Domestic, F/F, Harleen Quinzel Needs a Hug, Light Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley Loves Harleen Quinzel, Sad Harleen Quinzel, and harleys got sum shit to work through, but like theyre still figurin it out, cuddling!, harley's healing!, joker isnt actually like in it but hes mentioned a bunch, selinas mentioned a bit too, theyre in loove!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-08 08:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: Harley's tryin' to work through her shit. It freakin'sucks—but Pam's there, too, an' that makes it a little bett'a. (Or a lot, if she's bein' honest.)





	late nights

**Author's Note:**

> just kinda a short lil thing 'cause i love me some harley feels
> 
> enjoy?

Every once in a while, Harley breaks a little bit, even by her standards. 

‘Cause, really, it ain’t new that Mistah J’s old enemies keep comin’ after her still, even when her Puddin’ skipped town weeks ago an’ Harley’s been keepin’ a pretty low profile (just like Red told’er to) eva' since. 

She thinks she could’a bolted when she first saw him at the other end of that alley, that one gangbanger with all the wicked tats whose name she can’t for the _life_ ‘a her remember—Joe sumthin' or other maybe? Jimbo?

Ah, well—that don’t matter now, she s'poses. 

What matters is that she didn’t fight as hard as she could’a, didn’t grab his gun an’ pistol whip him til’ he bled to stop him from givin’ her a pretty damn good beatdown—‘cause her jaw hurts sumthin’ awful now, an’ she can taste the copper-flavored blood on her tongue, an’ she’s pretty sure Jimbo cracked a couple of her ribs ‘cause it hurts whenever she so much as breathes (… an’ maybe she ain’t been a doctor for a little while now but she knows that that ain’t a good sign).

And the worst part? 

She likes it a little.

She _likes_ spittin’ out her own blood onto the pavement, an’ she _likes_ the way her head feels all woozy an’ strange an’ numb like she’s on drugs (the _good_ stuff, too, like the kind that comes from one ’a them fancy hospitals downtown)… Most of all, though, she _likes_ that for once, the pain's bigger than tha’ voice in her head (the one that sounds a heck’uv’a lot like Mistah J’s) sayin’ that the better days she always saw in her brain are never comin’, that she don’t even deserve ‘em anyhow, that she stopped deservin’ them the same day she lost the only person who’d eva' love a gal as fucked in the head as her. 

She doesn’t bother cleanin’ herself up before goin’ back to the apartment she shares with Kitty an’ Red—she thinks she’s probably too tired to even try doin' it anyway. 

It’s dark by the time she gets back—past midnight, at least. 

Her head’s hurtin’ real bad and there’s a ringin’ in her ears that just doesn’t wanna go away, but she still takes a quick look around when she’s slippin’ off her boots by the door (Pam-a-Lam always went _ballistic_ wheneva' Harley wore shoes around the apartment), in particular makin’ sure that that green leafy plant in the corner that Red gave her for her birthday (Harley named him Fernando) is doin’ alright, even if she knows Red would neva’ let him die without tryin’ everythin’ to fix him first… an’, plus, it ain’t like Harley knows squat about plants anyway, so she probably wouldn’t know if Fernando was dyin’ unless he bursted int'a flames or sumthin’. 

(Accordin’ to Pam, though, plants don’t burst int'a flames—Harley remembers bein’ kinda disappointed when Red told her that, but also kinda relieved, ‘cause she’s gettin’ pretty attached to that green little guy, an’ she thinks she’d be pretty sad if he just up an’ caught fire one of these days.)

Kitty’s gone like always (Harley can tell ‘cause her dominatrix leather suit ain’t layin’ on top of the washin’ machine no more)—but Red’s there (Harley can see her green-ish blanket-covered figure through the slightly ajar bedroom door, sleepin’ all safe ’n sound in one ‘a their two queen beds in the apartment. 

She don’t stir when Harley creeps int’a the room, shuttin’ the creaky door behind he as quiet as she can (which ain’t super quiet, obviously, but she’s tryin’, okay?) an’ tip-toe-in’ on bare feet towards the bed. 

Pam don’t wake when Harley crawls int’a bed an’ curls up under the all-black comforter beside her, which is probably ‘cause of that nature-y nighttime tea that has them healin’ an' deep sleep properties she was always goin’ on about but Harley always refused to try—Harley thinks it’s bett’a that way, though, ‘cause really, she ain’t much in the mood to explain why she’s all beat up ’n bloody right now. 

Most’a the blood’s all dried, which is good, but Harley still tastes it on her tongue an’ she knows she’s probably smearin’ it all over the sheets, even if they’re all black an’ the blood probably blends in pretty damn good, ‘cause Pam-a-Lam has, like, a sixth sense or sumthin’ for these kinds’a things—Harley knows she’ll be hearin’ about it in the mornin’ for _sure_.

Still, that don’t quite matter yet, ‘cause a second later Pam’s long lime-y green arms come ‘round to bring Harley closer in the darkness, an’ she’s so warm an’ smells like flowers an’ Harley thinks that maybe it's worth it… gettin’ yelled at by Red in the mornin’, that is. 

It ain’t gonna be pretty, she knows, but right now, the world feels so far an’ Pam feels so _close_ an’ somehow Harley can’t remember for the _life_ ‘a her why she was so upset before—right now, she feels warm an’ safe an’… an’ _loved_… A hell’uv’a lot more than she eva’ felt with Mistah J, that’s for sure. 

She ain’t stupid, either; she thinks she knows what this means for her an’ Red, why her chest feels all warm an’ tingly when Red pulls her closer in the night, why all’uv’a sudden Harley don’t feel quite so broken no more now that Pam's holdin’ her tight—but that’s alright, ‘cause it can wait: Red promised she wouldn’t leave Harley (at least, not without tellin’ her first), an’ Harley believes her when she says that.

She falls asleep that night quicker than she ever did before (even with her jaw achin’ an' lip bleedin’ an’ cracked ribs smartin’ like crazy), dreamin' of bright-red hair instead’a green, lush leafy plants instead’a razor-sharp playin’ cards… things that make her _happy_ instead’a sad an’ frustrated an’ a little bit scared. 

It’s sumthin’ she thinks she could get used to, if she ain’t careful. 

(That scares her a whole lot more than Mistah J ever could.) 

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §

**Author's Note:**

> thots? (my [tumblr](https://psyches.co.vu/))


End file.
